Palooza o' Whackadoo
by Lethe of Oblivion
Summary: Resurrections, faeries, magic swords, the world's gone mad! MAD I TELL YOU. Castiel/OFC
1. Chapter 1: The Trap

**Palooza o' Whackadoo**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything, except this keyboard I'm typing on right now. The keyboard is mine. MY KEYBOARD.

**Rating:** M, for the sheer freedom of it. Fuck. See what I did there?

**Timeline:** After 6.11 Appointment in Samarra, as well as the inevitable drama-rama that accompanies re-ensoulment

**Pairings:** Primarily Castiel/OFC

**Inspiration:** Withdraw. Damn you hiatus.

**Summary:** Resurrections, faeries, magic swords, the world's gone mad! MAD I TELL YOU.

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Trap**

_York County, Pennsylvania _

"You shouldn't have come alone Castiel," Raphael's voice was crisp and precise; his suit rippled in the wind. His back was towards Castiel, whose sword was drawn. The wind was erratic and its whistles broke what would have otherwise been utter silence. The trees surrounding the patch of field where the two angels stood were swaying to and fro. Had he been human, Raphael would have sought refuge from the blustery weather.

"Your vessel..." Castiel cocked his head slightly as Raphael turned to face him at a distance no more than ten feet in their otherwise abandoned surroundings. The sun shown down brightly, in a near cloudless afternoon. It was quite beautiful, but this beauty went entirely unnoticed.

"It's reassembly was no easy task," Raphael too drew his sword. "Balthazar will face my wrath soon enough." Castiel's expression suddenly turned to that of curiosity. He'd thought his sources had provided him with invaluable intel regarding Raphael's location, yet Raphael wasn't shielded by any means, mystical or otherwise. He was entirely vulnerable. How could an archangel be so very careless? Unless...

"Why would you leave yourself uncloaked?" He stared intently as Raphael gave himself away with a glimmer of a smile. Castiel's eyes widened with a sudden daunting realization. Raphael wasn't stupid. It had been a trap. The thought had no time to bubble to the surface before Castiel felt a blade plunge through his back. It's removal was equally swift. He couldn't help but look down. As he did so the blade plunged through him once more. An involuntary cry escaped his lips as intense pain pulsed through his vessel.

"Enough Gabriel." There was a glint in Raphael's eye, smug self-satisfaction. Castiel's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he mouthed the word 'Gabriel' in shock before falling to his knees. As his eyes wondered near to the ground they fell upon a pair of legs making their way around him. No, it couldn't be.

"Nothing personal kid," Gabriel bent down on his knees. He looked, well, _good_. Dawning a leather jacket, five o'clock shadow, jeans and sneakers - it wasn't typical angel attire, but it was all too Gabriel. His eyes locked on to Castiel's, though his emotions were indecipherable.

"How...?" Castiel had difficulty speaking as his mouth continued to fill with blood. Gabriel merely smiled, placing his hand on Castiel's shoulder. It was warm to the touch, and the sincerity of Gabriel's smile made it all the more confusing.

"You'll never know." With that, Castiel fell to the ground dizzy, numb. A light began to emit from his body. Death again. No, it couldn't be, not now, not after _everything_. He couldn't let Raphael win, this couldn't be the end.

The light grew brighter and brighter. It was a blinding burst of energy that quickly evaporated in to nothingness. And there laid Castiel, wings charred on to the fertile grass, motionless, eyes closed. Gabriel stood slowly, turning to face his brother, wiping his hands together in mock fashion.

"His sword," Raphael pointed to the blade on the ground. Gabriel looked at Raphael skeptically.

"He's _dead_."

"The sword," Raphael repeated in a firmer tone. Gabriel shrugged before picking up the fallen weaponry and waved it in front of Raphael to seize.

"Happy?" Gabriel wiggled the sword playfully. Taking the sword in hand, Raphael looked at Gabriel with a mixture of curiosity and cynicism.

"How _were_ you resurrected Gabriel?" His eyes remained fixed on his younger brother. Gabriel's return was still a mystery. It couldn't have been their father, not again. Or was it? If he were still watching why wasn't he intervening?

"Dunno, don't care. I'm back, ain't it all grand?" Raphael continued to stare at Gabriel intently. "What? I offed your competition, didn't I? Think you'd be happier to see a familiar face."

"You were gone for quite some time brother." Gabriel stared back for a moment before shifting uncomfortably. He glanced down on to the grass, looking as though he were attempting to choose his words very carefully.

"I just, I'm not a fan of being dead," Gabriel laughed in spite of himself before looking up and giving a heavy sigh. "I want my family back, alright?" He flailed his arms in the air in a dramatic fashion. Raphael's interest was piqued with this last statement.

"You know how to raise our brothers?"

"Nah," Gabriel shook his head, shrugging off the comment with borderline indifference. Noticing Raphael's distain with this gesture, he changed tactics. "But we'll figure it out, together," he nodded to further his sincerity. Raphael wasn't so certain.

"It was Lucifer who murdered you..." Raphael began to clutch his blade handle more tightly. He didn't want to harm Gabriel, not a brother so very close to him. If the need did arise however; there would be no hesitation on his part.

"For good reason," Gabriel pursed his lips, placing his hands in his pockets. "I wanna make this work. Dad might not be coming back but," another heavy sigh. "Can we just try the whole family thing again?" Contemplating this for a moment, Raphael nodded. He wanted the archangel on his side, needed him, if he wished to succeed.

"Come, we have much work to do." Raphael vanished, and Gabriel was quick to follow. The two disappeared, leaving Castiel's vessel strewn on the ground.

* * *

**MADNESS.** That is all.


	2. Chapter 2: The Mystery Man

**Chapter 2: The Mystery Man**

_York County, Pennsylvania _

Alone in the field. The wind was still going strong. It looked as though it were fiddling with Castiel's trench coat. Another gust of wind blew through, and a curious thing transpired: Castiel's wounds began to heal at an alarming rate. In mere moments Castiel's eyes reopened. His vision was blurred, but he saw something, _someone_ over him. He attempted speech but was quieted before his lips could part. "_Shh_," the voice was gruff yet surprisingly comforting. As Castiel's eyes refocused the outline became clearer. A young man, with a mop of dark brown curls atop his head. There was something dangling from his neck, an amulet of some kind.

"Who...?" In a flash, or rather, gust, he was gone. Castiel turned his head to search for the mystery man but he was nowhere to be seen. He sat himself up on the ground, looking himself over. Blood stained clothing, yet, not a scratch on his vessel. Standing slowly, he examined where he had most certainly died... hadn't he? His eyes searched the ground, yet he saw no scorched wings. This was too much. Being killed (or so he thought), Gabriel's return, a mystery man - he needed help. He reached in to his pockets for his cell phone, forgetting he had thrown it out after it's battery had tragically died. Still, he had remembered Dean's number.

Castiel vanished from the field and reappeared in front of a payphone outside an Italian restaurant in the nearest city, redundantly entitled 'York'. Fumbling for change, he was quick to dial Dean's cell phone number. It took a few rings, but Dean answered.

"Who the hell is this?" He was testy, fantastic. Just what Castiel needed.

"Dean? Dean, I need you to tell me where you are," Castiel tried to speak as calmly as he could muster, but the turn of events had shaken him. His unease must have carried in his voice as there was a pause from the other line.

"Cas? Where are you calling from?" Concern. Dean was concerned. Good. Castiel didn't have time to work a sympathy card. If word spread of his death, his followers would surely be vulnerable. Enough of his siblings had died already.

"A pay phone in York." He couldn't quite see how this was relevant, and was rather short.

"Huh. What happened to your cell?"

"It... died," Castiel sounded slightly embarrassed by this. Like he were a neglectful Tamagotchi pet owner. "And," he took a deep breath. Mental preparation was key. "So did I. Or, at least, I think I died." That didn't come off as forcefully as he'd intended.

"What?" The lack of shock in Dean's voice couldn't have been more obvious. Just another day at the office.

"I need your help. Please."

* * *

_Langdon, North Dakota _

"Okay, uh, Langdon Motor Inn, North Dakota, Room Seven." No sooner had he said it Castiel appeared before him. Dean sighed, closing his phone and looking over Castiel with heightened curiosity. Sam too glanced over at the weary angel from one of the beds with a similar interest. "Look like you've seen a ghost."

"This is all very strange," Castiel took a deep breath. First things first. He turned to Sam. "Are you... well?" Sam rolled his eyes. They had been over this before.

"Wall's holding up Cas." Nodding, Castiel fidgeted slightly, not knowing just where to begin.

"Wait, what's strange? And what do you mean you died? _Again_?" If Death thought Sam and Dean were throwing the natural order of things out of whack, what must he have thought of Castiel? "Isn't that three times now? Did God resurrect you?" Dean took a step closer to Castiel. He had yet to make a personal visit. Whatever had happened, it couldn't be good. Averting his eyes to the floor, Castiel contemplated his words carefully.

"I was set up by Raphael."

"No surprise there," Dean grabbed an open beer off one of the side tables and took a sip. He didn't take his eyes off the angel.

"And then Gabriel..."

"Wait, _Gabriel_?" Dean couldn't help but scoff. "_Gabriel_-Gabriel? He _is_ dead." Castiel shook his head in a grave manner.

"Not anymore," he took a step forward. "He ran me through with his sword," he looked thoughtful for a moment. "Twice."

"With an archangel's blade?" Sam stood up, looking Castiel over. "How are you _not_ dead?"

"And why would Gabriel team up with Raphael?" Dean couldn't imagine Gabriel going against humanity like this, not after he'd died to protect it.

"I don't know. But Raphael believes me to be dead, when I awoke he and Gabriel had left, and my sword was gone." Weaponless. He was more vulnerable now than ever.

"So, Gabriel is alive, somehow, and he's teamed up with Raphael and now they think you're dead?" Sam seemed utterly dumfounded.

"Why did you feel the need to paraphrase?" Castiel rose a brow to Sam in confusion. There was something Dean just wasn't getting to this whole thing.

"What does this have to do with us Cas? I mean, you said before we couldn't help. Not saying we don't want to, but I don't know..."

"There's more."

"Oh?" Dean took another swig from his bottle. "Care to elaborate?"

"A man."

"A man?" At this, Castiel turned to Sam.

"Yes, a man, a young man." Castiel hesitated for a moment. "He was kneeling over me when I came to. And then he just disappeared." Dean looked over the archangel and saw the bloodstained clothing. "I believe... I believe he healed me." Dean gave an unexpected laugh. Castiel cocked his head. How was any of this possibly funny? _Lives_ were on the line. His fingers clenched in to an involuntary ball. Why did Dean insist on acting so indifferent to the fate of Heaven and Earth?

"So what? You think you have a guardian angel? Doesn't that seem kind of redundant?" Dean gave another laugh. Castiel bit his lip. He wasn't going to say anything. Not now. There was no time for what would surely be a fruitless argument.

"What does any of this have to do with us?" Sam gave that concerned Sammy look that only the ensouled version ever could.

"I don't know who this man is or why he healed me. But he wore an amulet of some kind. Celtic. I can't identify it any further."

"Can you draw it?" Sam began looking for a pen and a spare piece of paper.

"I was not fully conscious. It was..." Castiel threw his arms up in the air in frustration. "I know it was a triple spiral with triangles, that's it." This took Dean by surprise, and Sam stopped his searching.

"Okay, need more than that to go on Cas," Dean tried to keep a straight face. Castiel might have just said 'it was squiggly'. "Where was this again?"

"York," he was tiring of having to repeat himself and having others repeat him. It was so completely pointless. Sam perked up at this.

"Hey Dean, there's an occult shop in York that Dad used to stock up at, remember?"

"Garvy's?" Dean shook his head. "What do you wanna bet the place went under?"

"Still, worth a shot. Garvy's a legend. If anyone can identify Cas' mystery symbol, it's him."

"Where?" There was a sense of urgency in Castiel's voice.

"Relax, okay? We're driving." With that Dean began searching his pocket for his keys. Wasting precious time driving? _Driving_? Castiel was anything but pleased. Still, he didn't feel he could go this alone.

* * *

_York County, Pennsylvania _

Dilapidated. That was the word. Lost in a sea of other shops with an old fashioned sign entitled "Garvy's" hanging overhead by no more than a thread. Dean parked the impala and strode towards the entrance. Sam trailed behind, scratching his head. "This is it?" He looked thoroughly disappointed. "I remember it being... _nicer_."

"Yeah, and you were twelve," Dean rolled his eyes. Castiel took a glance at the shop window and he gave a look of surprise. Could it really be _this_ easy?

"That's it," Castiel moved closer to the glass, where a symbol had been painted. "That's the symbol."

"I remember that," Sam peered at the window more closely. "Garvy said it was used for healing." Dean shrugged.

"Makes sense. Maybe he's the one who sold it to this mystery guy," Dean opened the door to the shop, the bells on the door began to jingle.

"Only one way to find out." The three made their way in. The inside of the shop was surprisingly inviting in comparison to its exterior. Organized. The smell of incents filled the air, and the sound of pan flutes emanated from unseen speakers. A young woman sat behind the counter on a stool reading a book with the word 'ATOM' bolded on the cover. She turned as the door opened, hearing the jingling that had accompanied it.

"Can I help you?" She placed her book down and stood, tucking a stray lock of dirty blonde hair behind her ear. Her eyes wondered across Sam and Dean, and then to Castiel, cocking her head curiously. Dean was the first to speak.

"We're uh, friends of Garvy. He around?" The woman's face suddenly fell, and her pale blue eyes betrayed her suspicion of the three new customers.

"What'd he do?" She shifted uncomfortably, and walked out from behind the counter. Her arms were folded and she stared intently at Dean.

"Uh, nothing." This caught him by surprise. Was someone after Garvy? "He didn't do anything. We're just friends." The woman's eyes locked on to Dean's. She was skeptical.

"Why are you here?" Dean's expression changed from serious to serene in moments. He suddenly felt lighter. A glimmer of a smile found itself spreading across his features.

"Uh, we're," he took a deep breath, trying to focus himself. "That symbol outside, our buddy Cas here's looking for someone," Dean pointed to the archangel. "Someone with a necklace with that symbol," he paused for a moment. "A _dude_ necklace," nodding to himself, Sam gave Dean a confused expression before jumping in.

"Yeah, right. We were looking for the owner, and we knew that if Garvy had sold it he'd let us know who he sold it to." The woman stared again at Castiel for an uncomfortable length of time. She tapped her foot in a nervous manner.

"Was it gold?" Castiel thought for a moment before nodding. Sam's eyes flickered with excitement.

"So, you've seen it?"

"What's it to you?" The woman gritted her teeth, looking again in Castiel's direction who returned the glance. Why was she staring at him? He had remembered to restore his vessel's clothing, he knew he had. Still, he found himself looking down all the same.

"I'm indebted to him," Castiel managed after glancing over his suit for any anomalies. He lifted up his head to face her. The door to the back room suddenly opened, revealing the same curly haired young man whom Castiel had seen in the field, wearing the same golden amulet.

"Indeed you are Castiel," the man smiled, his deep brown eyes seemed to dance with a childlike deviance. Sam and Dean were both dumbfounded.

"What the...?"

"Garvy?"

* * *

A/N: I kept misspelling Garvy as Gravy. That must mean he's magically delicious.


	3. Chapter 3: The Mission

**Chapter 3: The Mission**

_York County, Pennsylvania _

"Hello boys," Garvy stepped forward, beaming at the two stunned hunters. "Look at you, all grown up." He was dressed in festive colors and possessed a good bit of stubble, giving off a distinct hippie vibe. This was in stark contrast to the young woman, whose clothing was rather nondescript and ordinary, jeans and a graphic tee. Garvy was simply beaming, though he was the only one. The young woman seemed far from pleased.

"You know them?" she asked, fidgeting slightly. She turned to Garvy, her expression hardened. He nodded to her cheerfully, clasping his hands together in delight. The woman's mouth twitched with uncertainty.

"Winchesters," he gave a broad grin. "Sam and Dean." The young woman studied the two up and down, turning again to Castiel.

"And the angel?" She treated the word as if it were a swear, her resentment unhidden. Castiel was taken aback by this. She had recognized him. Is that why she had stared?

"How did you...?"

"My God you haven't aged a day," Dean stared at Garvy in disbelief. It was true. His hair had grown out, his style of dress had altered slightly, but he was still the same young man of the Winchesters' childhood.

"What are you?" Sam couldn't take his eyes off Garvy. Strange was now an understatement.

"You encountered Beglan not too long ago, yes?" Garvy's fingers were tapping anxiously at his sides as if he were about to burst. Now Dean was really confused.

"Who?"

"As Irish as I," Garvy studied Sam and Dean's expressions with great interest. "Has a staff, beady little eyes, certain love of cream, ringing any bells?" He wiggled his eyebrows and fingers for effect, he was enjoying himself.

"You're a _leprechaun_?" This wasn't happening. Dean had had enough faerie encounters to last a lifetime. Garvy gave a hearty chuckle.

"No." Well, that was a relief. "No, we," Garvy gestured to himself and the young woman, "are sylphs."

"You're including me in this?" the young woman appeared exasperated as she cupped her head in her hand. Castiel examined the pair curiously. He had heard of the fae certainly, but seen one? Up close and personal? Never. They were as mysterious to angels as they were to humans, for the most part.

"And those are?" Dean knew one of Garvy's next words was going to include 'faerie', he just knew it.

"Air faeries," it was Sam who spoke. "They're air faeries." Of course it's faeries! It just _had_ to be didn't it? Garvy pointed a finger at Sam.

"Smart boy. On the nose tiger."

"This, this is insane," Dean threw his hands in the air. "_Insane_. This is insane." He began to pace, and turned back to Garvy in a huff. "We've had enough of fu-friggin' faeries." Even having learned of Garvy's true nature Dean still couldn't bring himself to swear in front of him. He looked down, trying to collect himself. "Aww, _man_. I thought we were done with this." He wanted to stomp his feet and throw a tantrum, but he refrained from doing so just barely.

"How did you find me?" Castiel stepped towards Garvy, ignoring Dean.

"You weren't far," Garvy shrugged. "And you feathery creatures, you, hmm," he paused, "you leave a far reaching impression." It was Sam's turn to be skeptical.

"What? You just_ happened_ to be nearby?" Sam knew by now that there was no such thing as coincidence. Garvy made a clicking sound with his tongue.

"I had a decidedly anonymous tip," at this the young woman scoffed.

"Garvy, _what_ is going on?"

"You healed me," Castiel chewed on this thought for a moment. "Why?" Garvy smiled yet again, ignoring the young woman.

"You said it yourself, you're indebted to me." Garvy headed towards a bookshelf, examining its contents thoughtfully. "And you're to repay this debt." It was not a question, it was a statement of fact.

"I'm not ungrateful, but I have grave matters to attend to," Castiel was careful with his wording, he didn't want to upset this so called 'Garvy'.

"Indeed," Garvy grabbed his chosen book from the shelf and began thumbing through the pages. "But I think you'll find my request of you particularly relevant to your plight." He dropped his book on to the table. "I need you to retrieve a weapon." He turned the book to face Castiel, who stepped nearer. "Caledfwlch."

"Something caught in your throat there?" Garvy smiled as Dean spoke.

"Referred to now as Excalibur." Was Dean caught in an alternate reality? Faeries, that's crazy. Excalibur? That's crazier.

"Excalibur? As in... no, just no." Dean shook his head. This had gotten out of hand.

"It was stolen from our realm," Gravely began, but the young woman interrupted him.

"By an _angel_ Garvy. You honestly think you can trust one?" She stole another glance at Castiel. The angel didn't know quite how to take this.

"Elle, there is no viable alternative. He's cloaked his whereabouts from us and it _must_ be retrieved." He gave out a passive sigh. "If that filthy bottom feeding son of a bitch pawns it off on some unsuspecting mortal, it'll be chaos."

"Wait, you don't mean Balthazar do you?" He was the only angel Sam knew of that fit Garvy's description.

"Oh, you know him," Elle turned to Garvy. "They _know_ him." Garvy rolled his eyes.

"Forgive her, she was the one who was duped into revealing the sword's whereabouts." At this Elle's eyes widened, she wanted to retort, but she didn't. She merely stood in a huff.

"How does retrieving this sword assist my 'plight'?" Castiel made sure not to use the air quotes this time, as they had a tendency to make people laugh.

"I want the sword out of Balthazar's hands, but, I wouldn't mind them in yours. Temporarily that is." Garvy couldn't help but turn to see Elle's reaction which was akin to a silent rage. "It'll be a suitable weapon against your archangel pest, and once you've succeeded in securing that celestial little kingdom of yours, it's to be returned. What say you?" Garvy's attention returned to Castiel.

"I can acquire another weapon from one of my troops," it just didn't follow how an ancient sword could take precedence over preserving his own loyal siblings.

"You could, yes," Garvy's fingers dragged across one of the tables. "If you were willing to give up such a monumentous advantage." Castiel was unresponsive. What advantage exactly? If anything he couldn't be at more a disadvantage, taking on two archangels rather than one. He didn't need to ask Garvy to elaborate, Garvy did so on his own accord. "Raphael believes you to be dead. He won't be expecting an attack, unless, that is, you or one of your cronies drops the ball."

"I don't understand," for Castiel, that was an understatement.

"Simple. You're sloppy, and so is your merry band of feather dusters. Your presence becomes known to your troops, it becomes known to Raphael," Castiel just blinked. "You know it to be true. You lot have been_ programmed_ for obedience. Deception and secrecy simply aren't your forte," Garvy scratched at the hairs on his chin, "on a group level that is. Individually? Just might have a shot."

"Why do you care about Heaven's war?" Sam knew Garvy was hiding something, he had to be.

"I don't really," again, just as a statement of fact. "I want that sword out of Balthazar's hands," his jovial tone shifted towards one much darker.

"Oh, so you care about sparing some 'unsuspecting mortal' from this sword?" Dean remembered Garvy well enough to know he wasn't exactly Mr. Saintly.

"Your suspicions aren't unwarranted Dean, but we're wasting precious time. Find Balthazar. Find the sword. End who you need to end. Return the sword. Is that clear enough for you?" He was clearly speaking to Castiel now. "Oh and uh, she'll be tagging along." Garvy gestured towards Elle as though it were an afterthought.

"What?" Sam, Dean, and Elle spoke in an eerie unison.

"Garvy, I don't want any part of this." She wasn't certain just what was going on in that head of his, but working with an angel? Again? No thank you.

"You made the mess, you clean it up," harsh, oddly so for Garvy. "Besides, you made an ass of yourself once, too proud to let it happen again."

"Very well," Castiel nodded towards Garvy, comforted by having been relieved as the role of commander, if only temporarily. Dean was the first to protest.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, we do _not_ need a chaperone," if they were even going to _do_ this.

"Blade'll blind you sonny boy, you'll need an extra pair of eyes if you wanna pull a fast one on Balthazar." Turning to Elle, Garvy ran his fingers through his locks. "'Sides, makes it all the more difficult to be double-crossed, one would_ hope_."

"Fine," Elle gave a heaving sigh. "If it'll shut you up."

"No guarantees."

"I'll gather the supplies needed to track him," with that Castiel vanished. Dean muttered incoherently under his breath. Sam was still trying to take it all in.

"Isn't it supposed to be in the stone?" Dean couldn't even bother to look up to gauge the reaction of his own joke. Garvy smiled and Elle fumbled around her pockets, pulling out a cell phone.

"I was supposed to have a date tonight you gob," she sighed, opening the phone to scroll through her contacts. Faeries and technology, who knew? Garvy raised a brow.

"Ah yes, the _professor_," he shook his head in distaste. "When are you going to learn? Mortals are far too fragile to cultivate an emotional attachment to." He made a tsk sound and Sam gave him a funny look that Garvy hadn't seemed to notice as he went on. "It's better you flake. Besides, this is a good thing dear." Elle let out a laugh. "The speedier the resolution to _your_ mistake the better." She stared back at him in defiance.

"I'm calling him to cancel," Elle started towards the backroom as Castiel reappeared with the required items.

"I really wish you wouldn't do that," Garvy called out as Elle opened the handle, she gave Garvy an obscene gesture before disappearing behind the door. "Denial," he sang near inaudibly. Castiel stared for a moment at the door Elle had gone through, hoping Sam and Dean would shoulder the interactions between them. He most certainly didn't understand her aversion to him. He began setting up immediately on the nearest table. He had a mission now. A mission administered by some shady faerie, but a mission all the same. Besides, there was something about Garvy. There was something charismatic, persuasive, even _charming_ that Castiel couldn't quite put his finger on.

"So, our dad, did he know that you were, y'know, a faerie?" Sam scratched his head. He'd doubted his father would have left something like that out. Garvy shook his head.

"Not something typically advertised Sam, no." The sentence rolled off his tongue in a nonchalant fashion. Dean was about to speak before Castiel grasped his arm and re-cut his hand, the drops of blood dripped in to the designated pot.

"Ow, _dammit_ Cas," Dean tore his hand away, shaking it off. The cut had been smaller this time around. Castiel didn't take notice of Dean's reaction, he was in 'the zone'. "So you and that Elle chick, you're brother and sister?" They certainly acted like it.

"Cousins, " his nose twitching, Garvy took a glance back at the closed door. "Been working here on and off for the past decade or so. Unfortunate you had to meet after her little fall out, she's usually the chipper one."

"So, she's a faerie dating a human?" Dean made a 'huh' sound. "How does that work?"

"It doesn't," there was no doubt in Garvy's voice, it was said with conviction. "But, she isn't going to listen to me. He'll end up a corpse, mark my words," Garvy gave a bitter laugh. "Luck o' the Irish, eh?"

"So you're an optimist?" Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets. Garvy may have been a faerie, but he was still Garvy. That sense of humor was certainly his brand. There was a miniature explosion from the table, Castiel looked up.

"I've found him."

* * *

A/N: I should really have better author's notes... ah well.


	4. Chapter 4: The Lead

**Chapter 4: The Lead**

_York, Pennsylvania _

"Kudos to you," Garvy clapped his hands together in mock applause as Elle reappeared from the backroom. Sam eyed her carefully, though Dean seemed entirely indifferent at the moment.

"Alright, date canceled," Elle looked over at Castiel. "Can we get this over with?"

"He's in," Castiel shook his head, a glimmer of amusement washed across his face, "Angel Fire." Dean couldn't help but laugh and Elle gave an audible 'hmph'.

"Naturally," she looked over at Dean and Sam. "How are we transporting_ them_ exactly?" Dean gave her a scathing look. Who did this broad think she was anyway? They weren't children, they stopped a fucking _apocalypse_.

"We _drive_," he had appointed himself Captain Obvious.

"It's more than a day away by car," she hoped Garvy had some sort of plan as to how this was supposed to play out. Castiel wanted to offer to teleport the Winchester brothers, but he knew they wouldn't accept, so he remained silent. A part of him didn't want them to tag along at all. He had become of the same mind set as Garvy, though he hadn't been present for his words. Humans _were_ fragile, even the rough and tough Winchester duo.

"Let them drive," Garvy waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "Or better yet have them stay. You and the angel head out." Dean didn't like the sound of this idea at all. He and Sam were asked for their help and they were going to give it, one way or the other.

"Oh, we're going pal," Sam sighed as Dean's frustration grew. Castiel walked towards Elle.

"No," his voice was firm. "There isn't time," he held out his hand to Elle. "You're coming?" Elle looked down at his hand and took it with some reluctance before the two disappeared.

"This isn't happening," Dean was putting his foot down. "C'mon Sam!" He began to head towards the door.

"Dean," Sam didn't budge. Dean turned, this whole situation was just _crazy_.

"_What_?"

"We don't even know where in Angel Fire they _are_."

"So, what?" Dean gritted his teeth. "You're on his side now?"

"No, I just..." Sam didn't want to go up against Balthazar half-cocked, especially considering the fact that he had it in for Dean. Rummaging through his pocket, Dean grabbed his keys, which fell into a mess on the floor.

"Really?" Just his luck. His key ring had broken, probably dropped out of his pocket. He grumbled as he bent down to pick up his keys. "Let's go," Dean stood up, pocketing his last key and proceeded to storm out of the shop. Sam grinned meekly at Garvy before following. He wished he could have said that it had been good to see him again. The sound of the impala's engine could be heard as Garvy watched the pair swerve out of the parking lot. _Poor saps_.

"_Wow_ I thought they'd never leave," an all too familiar voice came from behind Garvy. The new presence wasn't unexpected, in fact just the opposite.

"And why's she got to be in the dark about all of this?" Garvy turned to face the formerly deceased archangel known as Gabriel.

"Authenticity."

"Ah," Garvy nodded in what appeared to be agreement. "So, big G really ring ya?" Gabriel shrugged his shoulders and cracked his knuckles. It was good to be back, whatever the exact reason behind it all.

"Looks like," Gabriel picked up a jar of incents, sniffing the contents and pulling back in disgust. "Yowza that wreaks," he placed it back down. "Figured pretty boy angel wasn't as well fit for the job as he'd hoped for."

"That so?"

"No idea," Gabriel readjusted his jacket. "You uh, got anything... chocolate?"

* * *

_Angel Fire, New Mexico _

They stood in front of a dimly lit cabin. Elle looked disgruntled as she set her eyes on the surrounding shrubbery. "Rowan," she shifted towards the angel. "I can't go in." Couldn't even touch it, physically or mystically. Castiel blinked in confusion. Fae could be warded off by bushes? Castiel waved his hand and the rowan was set aflame. It burned unnaturally quick before turning to ash. Elle took a step back. "Impressive." She eyed him curiously. "So how are we going to play this?" Silence. "You-you _do_ have a plan, don't you?"

"I'm going to ask him to return the sword." What else would he do? Elle appeared dumbfounded.

"You're just going to _ask_?" She couldn't believe her ears.

"He and I have history." True, things didn't go as well as they could have during their last encounter, but they certainly could have gone worse.

"Oh," Elle's eyebrows furrowed, "and if he declines?" Castiel stood silent. "Dude, you don't even have a weapon."

"I assumed you would be the weapon," he didn't know much about fae, but they _were_ supposed to be powerful. This took Elle by surprise. Castiel was all too quick to relinquish control. Why would he trust her with his very life? Granted her cousin did _save _his life, but all the same... she took a closer look at the angel. He had those lost puppy dog eyes. His face was worn, and he was tired. The kind of tired brought about by overwhelming stress. She forced a laugh.

"You angels and your leaps of faith," she shook her head. It was difficult for a fae to relate. "Okay then. Well, good enough for you, good enough for me. Shall we?"

"What did he do to you? To make you resent our kind?" He was genuinely curious. She had gone from hostile to neutral over the course of a few minutes. It certainly wasn't him in particular, or, at least, he didn't believe it to be. Elle smiled.

"It's a complex. Most fae have it. Sore losers. Ever heard of Rumplestiltskin?" Castiel shook his head. "'Course not." She saw the angel's bright blue eyes ripe with confusion and felt sympathy towards him. "Look, I'm not, I don't resent you, alright? I don't even know you." Confirmation, always a bonus.

"We should go." Elle nodded and the two walked up to the cabin door, it was open.

"Well, this doesn't look like a trap." The lights in the cabin flickered on, revealing Balthazar sitting comfily on his couch in front of a faux fireplace.

"Come in, why don't you?" Balthazar stood, staring over both Castiel and Elle. "Ella, darling, care to enlighten me on the location of any other valuables?" Balthazar sniffed the air. "You're lucky rowan's cheap Castiel."

"Where's the sword?" Elle was direct, right to the point. What good was small talk anyway? It had only caused her trouble with Balthazar in the past.

"Sold," Balthazar smiled broadly. "Too late I'm afraid." His eyes wandered to Castiel. "Was it my influence?"

"What do you mean?"

"Faking your own death." Castiel's eyes widened. "Word travels fast." Balthazar decided to pour himself a glass of wine. "Secret's safe with me," he gave the archangel a wink. Unsurprisingly Castiel was doubtful. "Troops still fighting tooth and nail. Didn't know Micah had it in 'em."

"To _who_?" Elle wasn't going to become distracted, not again. She too was on a mission. How Balthazar found the little sprite amusing.

"My dear girl, why ever would I tell you?"

"I need it," Castiel interjected.

"Oh?" This piqued Balthazar's interest. "What for?"

"To slay Raphael." And Gabriel most likely, but he left that off. Having to explain that he knew nothing of the details of Gabriel's resurrection would be all the more time consuming.

"Your still not off that lost cause yet are you?" Castiel gave no verbal response. He wasn't giving up, it wasn't in him to do so. Balthazar made a dismissive gesture. "Been paid in full, why not?" He took a sip of his wine. "New Queen of Hell."

"Queen of Hell?" And here Castiel had thought Hell would be in anarchy after Crowley's demise. How was it Hell was in order when Heaven was falling apart?

"Sixty six souls, poetic isn't it?" Balthazar beamed, quite proud of the trade. Elle was growing impatient.

"She have a name?" Deep down Castiel thought he already knew the answer.

"Meg," he breathed, somewhat uncertain.

"Ah, so you've met. Well, if we're done here I _do_ have an appointment."

"Not so..." Elle flicked her hand and flames began to encircle Balthazar, but it was too late. Before the circle could close Balthazar had gone. "... fast," she sighed, extinguishing the circle with a snap of her fingers. "_Damnit_." She turned to Castiel who stared at the formerly aflame floor. It had been holy fire. He made a mental note not to upset any fae he might encounter. "So, your buddy, lying or no?"

"I believe he's telling the truth," after all, he'd been pawning off Heaven's weaponry as of late, why not Excalibur? Castiel gave a deep sigh. "Dean had asked me to track Meg before, to return his demon-killing knife, she was cloaked from me," he looked concerned. Elle on the other hand did not.

"C'mon," Elle put her hand on Castiel's shoulder and the two vanished in a gust of wind. The sound of flapping feathers was entirely absent.

* * *

_York, Pennsylvania _

Elle and Castiel found themselves back at Garvy's. "Back so soon?" Garvy cocked his head in confusion, looking the two up and down. "Where's the sword?" Elle slid her hand off Castiel's shoulder and walked towards Garvy.

"Balthazar's a bust, sold it to some demon broad, 'Queen of Hell'," why did no one laugh when _she_ used air quotes? She turned to Castiel. "Meg was it?" He nodded.

"Any personal effects?" Garvy sauntered towards Castiel, seemingly unphased by the news. Castiel's eyes widened slightly, and he fidgeted nervously.

"What-what do you mean?" And how could that possibly be relevant? Whatever 'personal effects' Meg had had on Castiel were quite trivial.

"Jewelry, clothing, weapons, anything she handled recently." Garvy rattled off. Castiel breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Oh. Uh, no." He shook his head. Elle was curious as to his reaction, but said nothing.

"Well, that makes it more difficult. But not impossible." Garvy turned towards the spare table, what looked to be an analogue address book, and picked it up. "I take it she's hidden herself from prying angelic eyes then?"

"How...?" Garvy spun around a little too quickly, and had a bit of trouble getting his footing back.

"Too much cream," Garvy's eyes widened a bit before addressing Castiel. "You're all _so_ predictable." Castiel wasn't found of being grouped in with demons. "I'll run through my contacts, see if I can't scrounge up some results, hmm?" Garvy began to turn before stopping a moment. "Ah yes, and uh, you'll be staying here until this Meg woman's found."

"Why?"

"You wanna stay hidden or not? You can't afford discovery. There's a flat upstairs. Don't mind Franklin, oh, and no wings my feathery acquaintance. It's warded against all forms of magical intrusion," Garvy pointed to Elle. "And you, why don't you drop in on the Winchester brothers and give them an update, would you?" A key ring materialized in Garvy's hand and he threw it to Elle who, though she caught it, was taken by surprise. She looked down at the key ring somewhat confused before vanishing. "There's enough room for the boys as well," Castiel couldn't help but look around. The shop was fairly small, how large could the flat above be? "If you're desiring their company that is."

"I'll be endangering them," Castiel shifted guiltily. He'd stayed at a distance for reasons other than just being busy, though that was certainly a pertinent factor.

"Not many places safer Castiel," Garvy put the tip of his finger to his chin. "Unless..."

* * *

_Still in York, Pennsylvania _

"I'm telling you Sam, you can't trust faeries," Dean was driving along in the impala, still irked. His last experience with the wee folk still fresh in his mind. "They're-they're..."

"They're what?" Elle's voice emanated from the backseat, her tone almost playful. The impala swerved as Dean jumped in surprise. Sam looked back wide-eyed.

"Oh for the love of," Dean was not about to say 'God', "... pie." He mentally cursed himself for not coming up with a more witty exclamation.

"For the love of pie?" Elle laughed. What a curious little human he was. "Okay then," Dean turned his eyes back on to the road and began to pull off to the side, gripping the steering wheel unnaturally tight.

"What are you doing here? Why aren't you with Cas?" Sam stared at Elle in confusion. They couldn't be _done_. They hadn't been gone for any real length of time at all.

"And _why_ are you in my car?" That was the more important question, at least to Dean. He had decided to keep the engine running. Elle dangled the key ring in front of Dean, spinning it with mild amusement, seeming to be taken with its shine.

"Believe this belongs to you," she jingled it twice before Dean snatched it from her hand. He really needed to upgrade to silver. Fucking faeries.

"You stole my key ring? Or was that one of your hobgoblin friends?" He was quick to stuff the key ring back in to his pocket.

"Packing it in for the day boys, Garvy's sent you an invite."

"Packing it in? Does that mean you found the sword?" Sam scratched his head. Since when did things ever go so smoothly? Elle shook her head. No, of course not.

"Sword was sold, Garvy's looking into it." She was half-hoping it would be a while before she was back on this quest she'd been thrown into. Though this was accompanied with a pang of guilt. She reasoned she would only be 'free' after she had righted her wrong. Gullible. A _fae_ gullible? The embarrassment was still fresh, and quite new to her. She stuffed these thoughts in the back of her mind to be dealt with at a later date. "Shouldn't be too long I'd imagine."

"Sold?" Sam scoffed. "To who?"

"Demon," Elle rolled her eyes. She couldn't say she was too worried. Balthazar was entrepreneurial, if he had dug deep enough he'd have discovered why the sword was so invaluable, but a demon? Far less likely. Perhaps she was making a mistake adopting this mindset, but even if she were wrong, stressing would get her nowhere.

"A demon has Excalibur?" Sam couldn't take his eyes off Elle. How could she not be panicked? He was panicked and he knew next to nothing about the pointed weapon.

"Looks like." Elle leaned back in her seat. "So, your angel's back at Garvy's, k?"

"Alright, hold on, a demon has this magic sword and your just..." Sam made the mistake of turning to Dean to decipher his reaction. Looking back, Elle had vanished.

"Of course she goes poof, she's a faerie, faeries go poof," Dean gave a exasperated sigh.

"So, what do we do now?" Sam was hesitant, Dean seemed almost as bitter about working for faeries as he did working for Crowley. Dean threw his hands down on the steering wheel.

"We get Cas, and we find a way to gank this demon on our own," Dean revved up the engine.

"How are we supposed to...?"

"We'll find a way Sam!" He was not going to be at the beck and call of some spry little pixies, Dean did have standards. Now he just had to discover how exactly to keep them.

* * *

A/N: Randomly re inspired. Updates will be sporadic, but hey, who's really reading this anyway?


	5. Chapter 5: The Rabbit Hole

**Chapter 5: The Rabbit Hole**

_Chartering the Unknown_

When Sam and Dean re-entered Garvy's, it was curiously vacant. "Cas?" Dean called out, looking around. "Where the hell's Garvy?" Dean's suspicion level was rising at a rapid speed. _Fucking faeries_. Dean's new mantra.

"Elle said he was looking in to the demon," Sam shrugged. He too was weary of Garvy, but he didn't want to jump to any hasty conclusions. The last thing they needed was to purposefully add to their ever expanding list of enemies.

"Yeah, they say a lot of things," Dean walked forward towards the backdoor, opening it slowly. He decided to draw his gun.

"Dean," Sam sighed, it was just like his brother. "What are you doing?"

"Protection Sam, protection," He clutched the gun close to him as he went through the door. Something about the weighty piece of metal gave him so semblance of security. Sam followed him, in to the back room that is. Following Dean's logic? Not so much.

"You really think bullets will stop a faerie?" Sam raised a brow.

"Stopped 'em before. How do you think I escaped?" Dean looked around, his expression becoming more and more serious. There were boxes, crates, various knick-knacks, and a set of stairs. Dean motioned towards the door with his head and began walking up the stairs slowly. This had to be approached very carefully. "Cas?" Dean stopped at the top of the stairs, and pulled the handle to the door directly in front of him. It was unlocked. As he entered the flat he was taken aback by its size and content. It looked as though Garvy had taken more than a few pages from IKEA advertisements and slapped them together in a vast three dimensional space. He took a few more steps inside, making a gesture for Sam to follow him in. "Cas? You here?" Dean saw a tiny flash with a brownish tinge dart across the floor at high speed. "Ah ha!" Beginning to follow the brownish tinge, Dean stopped in his tracks when he heard Castiel's voice.

"Dean? Dean I'm over here," the voice called out from the opposite direction. Dean decided to let the miniature blur pass, and headed towards what he assumed to be a spare bedroom. Sam followed reluctantly.

"Cas? You okay?" Opening the door to the bedroom, Dean looked around. The room was small and fairly stark. There was a bed, a nightstand, and a dresser, all possessing the same wood finishing. It was dull to say the least. There was also a closet door across from the bed and Dean suspected it was the only place Castiel could possibly be, seeing as the bed was a tad too low to the ground. He walked over to the closet door, opening it slowly. It was larger than he was expecting, and darker.

"Just follow the sound of my voice," Castiel's tone was oddly silky in its delivery, _alluring_ even. Dean stepped in the closet without a second thought. Sam was experiencing uncertainty, not quite sure where it was stemming from. Something just didn't feel right.

"Uh, Dean..." he trailed off, stopping mid-sentence when Castiel's voice permeated the air yet again.

"Sam, Sam come closer," The uncertainty had vanished and Sam walked into the closet, as though he were in a daze. As he entered, the door behind him slammed shut.

"Aww, _dammit_," Dean couldn't see, but he could hear.

"That-that was the door, wasn't it?" Sam tried to make out Dean's figure in the dark, but it was difficult. Dean forced a laugh.

"Yeah Sam, that was the door." A trap. He knew it, he just knew it.

"What do we do?" Sam began to tap his foot.

"Well," Dean stared pensively in the darkness for a moment. "We could talk about our feelings or we could, I don't know, _escape_?" How he wished Sam could see his 'duh' face. He swore to himself for forgetting his matches.

"We can't even _see_ anything," the words had just left Sam's lips when a door flew open. It wasn't the original door, but the door just opposite it. There wasn't a great bit of light coming in, but the candles that illuminated what appeared to be a cellar revealed that the original door had vanished. "Oh, that can't be good," Sam glanced over at the blank wall where the entrance had been.

"You think?" Dean walked out of the closet and in to the cellar, peering around. He walked towards what looked to be a wine rack, and took hold of a bottle, dusting it off. "Hey Sam," Sam too walked out of the closet. The door again slammed shut as he exited. He turned suddenly.

"_Shit_," Sam watched in amazement as the door itself disappeared before his very eyes.

"Cream," Dean held up the bottle to Sam, noting the new mysterious lack of a door. "Well, that's just peachy." He placed the bottle back on to the rack. "Something tells me we're not in Kansas anymore Dorothy."

"Why am _I_ Dorothy?" Sam rose a brow.

"What? You wanna be Toto?" Dean noted a short stairway near the other end of the cellar. "What do you wanna bet Cas _isn't _here?"

"Where _is_ here exactly?" Sam glanced around. It didn't look even slightly familiar.

"No idea," Dean motioned towards the stairway. "But there's one way out."

"Yeah, if the door doesn't disappear." Sam gave a huffy sigh. This situation was starting to freak him out as well. Dean shrugged and started towards the cellar door, readjusting the hold on his gun. Sam was close behind him this time. Each placing an ear against the wooden orifice, the two brothers could make out some of the sounds present on the other side. Footsteps and crackling and sizzling—then a high pitched feminine scream. The two looked at one another with uncertainty.

"It sounds like a torture chamber," Sam took a small step back. "That _really_ sounds like a torture chamber." Sam had so hoped Dean had been wrong about Garvy.

"Well I for one am not about to be faerie chow." Dean took two steps back. "On the count of three, I kick this door down and we kick some ass, got it?" Sam took out his gun as well and nodded. "One," Dean took another step back, "two," Sam held his breath, "three!"

* * *

_York, Pennsylvania_

"And they'll be safe there?" Castiel eyed Garvy intently, searching for any telltale signs of deceit. He felt a pang of guilt stowing the Winchesters away from Earthly and Heavenly dangers but reasoned it was ultimately in their own best interests.

"There is no place safer Castiel, you have my word," Garvy gave a near heartwarming smile as the two stood outside the now closet-less spare bedroom. "Now I must be off to uncover the whereabouts of this so-called queen, under no conditions are you to leave, is that understood?" Castiel hesitated, lying in wait seemed so very cowardly. "Is that understood?" Garvy asked again, eyes locking on Castiel's. The two began towards the kitchen. After a momentary pause, Castiel nodded. "Good." Garvy's head turned back towards the hallway."Franklin! Be a sport and keep Mister Castiel company would you?" With that, Garvy seemed to evaporate.

_Franklin_? Castiel thought and his eyes darted across the room hoping to catch a glimpse of who Garvy had named. "Hey, man, down here," the little brownish blur Dean had spotted earlier had coalesced in to a bearded man no taller than twelve inches, and dawning aged, though well cared for, peasant-like garb. Castiel looked down and then stepped back in surprise. He resembled a Ken doll in appearance, except less muscular and flesh as opposed to plastic. "What up Wings?" The small man Castiel assumed to be Franklin waved. Not knowing what to make of the miniature man, Castiel merely stared. "'Cept, you know, _you_ I guess." Franklin scratched his head awkwardly.

"You're..." Castiel was at a loss for words.

"I'm what? Short?" Franklin shrugged. "I'mma hob man." The doll-sized figure disappeared yet again, reappearing on the kitchen counter in a sitting position, lighting what appeared to be a miniature joint with the tip of his finger. "So, how'd Garv pick you up anyway?" Franklin inhaled deeply before looking up at the angel, who was staring curiously at the tiny stream of smoke that was beginning to waft through the air.

"I don't..."

"Hey!" Franklin stood up suddenly. "Here man," Franklin snapped his fingers and a much larger joint appeared on the counter in front of him. "Light up, take a load off," he gestured towards it sitting back down. "You look like you could use it." Castiel picked up the strange object, looking it over curiously. "Purple haze, special from the fae realm Wings, I think the original strain went extinct here," Franklin paused for a moment, scrunching his face before taking another hit. "Yeah, yeah man, that's it." He laid down on his back, looking up at the ceiling fan. The angel continued to look over this peculiar herb with interest.

"What is this 'purple haze'?" And why was this tiny creature smoking it?

Franklin gave the angel a look of befuddlement. "Weed man," looking over at Franklin, Castiel gave a blank expression. "Pot?" Still no reaction. "Reefer? Marijuana? _Cannabis_?" The angel nodded in understanding.

"It's a mind-altering herb." Castiel took another glance before placing it back on the counter. What was _he _supposed to do with it?

"You're turning down a free smoke?" The hob raised his brow in surprise. That had honestly never happened to him before.

"I need to remain alert." Readjusting his trench coat, Castiel looked back down at the counter. He was slightly curious if he was going to be honest with himself, though his experience with alcohol hadn't been all too pleasant.

"For what?" Franklin let out a laugh. "Garv's got it man! 'Sides, the effects only last a couple hours at most." Sitting back up, he folded his legs in what appeared to be a meditative position. "But hey, not gunna force it on ya." Picking up the joint yet again, Castiel looked at it with uncertainty.

"How do you...?" Franklin beamed, his delight was quite apparent.

"All right Wings!"

* * *

_Los Angeles, California _

An alleyway. It was dark and dank and depressing, why were they all so _typical_? Garvy let out a sigh as the demon laid against the wall struggled for breath, his shoes grazing the ground as if he were being held up by an invisible force.

"A name Andras, that's all I ask, please don't be unreasonable." Garvy clicked his tongue in a disapproving manner, taking a step forward.

"Okay, alright... it's, it'll be anonymous right?" still struggling for breath. The demon's meat suit was pale, with greasy hair and vivid blue eyes, which were now bulging with fear. Garvy rolled his eyes.

"You have my word," he gave a mock-bow. The demon hesitated for a moment.

"Anne Bannister, came to us fifteen twenty three, from Surrey," Andras clutched his neck, wriggling helplessly when he suddenly fell to the ground with a thud. He gave out a cough before looking up at Garvy angrily. "You'll never find her bones if that's what you're after." Garvy waved the demon off dismissively.

"It isn't," offering Andras his hand, he helped the demon to his feet before turning away. Andras gave no thought to this gesture, as it appeared the two had had dealings in the past.

"What... what _are_ you after?" The demon's eyes scanned over the fae with curiosity. He walked towards him, his interest piqued. Garvy smiled, hearing Andras' approach before turning to face him, punching his fist through the demon's chest.

"Nothing you can provide," he stated simply, in a voice that was eerily calm. Andras looked at Garvy in absolute shock, then his eyes trailed down to his chest. Blood was already beginning to drip from his mouth. "It isn't personal." With that, the fae gave a twist, and an orangish tinge flashed through Andras' host before Garvy removed his arm, and the body fell lifeless to the ground. "And they always leave behind a mess..."

* * *

A/N: Yes, I'm getting Castiel stoned, if anyone needs it, it's him. Just sayin'.


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